


Upon the Feast of Stephen

by Pares (kormantic)



Category: due South
Genre: Camping in the Backyard, Christmas, First Time, M/M, POV Alternating, Picking Out a Tree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-06-03
Updated: 2000-06-03
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9226709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kormantic/pseuds/Pares
Summary: Hearth, home, camping and Good King Wenceslas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for my friend Mel. I wanted to beat that whole 'Christmas In July' rush. Thanks to Laura for tasty beta goodness.

Fraser's first thought, as he watched his friend kiss his mother's cheek and wave her back from the door so he could close it, was that Ray looked what his friend Inusik would have termed a "city boy".

Ray's short suede jacket, although stylish, was not the sort of thing one would wear in the frozen wilderness of a Yukon winter.

Of course, 'Arturo's Christmas Tree Farm' was unlikely to be a wilderness of any magnitude.

Ray _was_ wearing a knitted watchcap in charcoal wool, that complemented the fawn of his jacket quite nicely. Fraser had always liked it; not only was a hat a wise concession to the chill Chicago winter, he also found the cap lent Ray a certain unexpected... appeal.

"At least the Yank has sense enough to cover his head. Which is more than I can say for you."

Fraser beetled his brows and consulted the 'Coca Cola' thermometer someone had thoughtfully glued to the column by the stairs to the Vecchio home.

"Dad," he said reprovingly. "It's 45 degrees."

"What's that in Centigrade?" Before Fraser could answer, his father had moved on. "Americans, " he complained. "Always dragging their feet. What's so difficult about the Metric System, I ask?"

Fraser Senior stepped aside as Ray brushed past.

"Lemme back this baby out of the drive way, huh, Benny?"

"Sure thing, Ray."

"He's got the narrow skull of a blackfooted weasel, son," Fraser Senior intoned conversationally.

His son gave him a look of plain reproach. "Would you mind keeping your comments to yourself? Besides, I find Ray's features to be... well," he paused, considering. "Aerodynamic."

"The man's bald as an egg," his father pointed out. "You'd have to."

At last, Ray's green 1971 Buick Riviera was purring at the curb. With a long-suffering sigh, Fraser gave his father a final quelling glance and climbed into his friend's car.

***

Even though he wasn't in his usual Mountie get up, Fraser was still in a uniform. Hell, he practically looked like a rental from The Official Lumberjacks Association. Ray recognized the black and red check jacket and tried to shake off the nasty associations it had for him. Carver was in jail, and Fraser was here, safe in the Riv, on their way to Arturo's, where the biggest danger was probably splinters.

Well, that and losing a limb to chainsaw kickback, like his Uncle Angie. That's what Angie had _said_ , anyway... Ray happened to know he'd owed Zuko Senior some serious dough. There was a long standing joke the Zuko goombahs told the poor saps who took loans from Frank Junior. 'It won't cost you an arm _and_ a leg...'

"I could have picked you up."

"I enjoyed the walk."

"Where's Dief?"

Fraser glanced over his shoulder as if expecting to see the wolf in his usual spot before answering.

"Diefenbaker has philosophical objections to the idea of raising trees in captivity."

"You're kidding me."

"Yes." Ray smiled and shook his head, and Fraser continued. "Although, he does feel a certain kinship to evergreens in particular."

"Lemme guess. The Fraser Fir?"

Fraser deadpanned, "Scotch Pine, actually."

"Go figure. So, really, where is he?"

"He and Willie are visiting friends. I believe they are to judge a seasonal pet show of some sort, and then enjoy the ensuing festivities. He'll be home tomorrow, in plenty of time for your mother's Christmas Eve dinner." Fraser brushed some imaginary lint off the sleeve of his Lumber Jacket.

"Yeah, Dief's not one to miss a good meal." Some dickweed in a Cadillac cut them off, and Ray favored him with an eloquent hand gesture.

"Or good company," Fraser added. After a moment he tipped his head in his classic Mountie Has A Question angle and spoke again. "Excuse me, Ray, but might I inquire... Why it is that you waited to buy the family tree so late in the year?"

"I'm actually a day early. It's kinda tradition in our house to decorate it on Christmas Eve. My dad, you know, we didn't always have a lotta money, and he would wait 'til the last minute, until the trees were half-dead, and therefore cheap. Then he'd bring it home and we'd hurry up and decorate it and then take it down the next day. The old man, he smoked like a chimney..." Ray paused to brake at the stoplight, and stared out the windshield for a while. It mostly pissed him off to think of his dad at any time of the year, but it was always worse when the holidays rolled around. "Anyway, one year, he fell asleep in the living room with a lit cigarette. The tree was so dry... it just went up like a torch. We were lucky, though. Frannie had sneaked downstairs to see what Santa had brought us, and she woke us all up, screeching. Me and Maria and Ma filled up pots and pans with water and put it out before it got too outta hand. So. It was usually a good idea not to keep the tree around too long. We got an artificial one when I was in my teens. But I just thought it would be nice this year... to have a fresh one, right?"

There was always something terrible about having Fraser trying not to look... sympathetic. Empathetic. One of those.

"A fine idea, Ray. They're very festive, as I understand it." Maybe it was worse to hear that soft kind of longing in Fraser's voice. What kind of childhood was that, living on an ice floe with librarians?

"What, you never had a tree as a kid?"

Fraser was tugging his ear.

"We had Buckthorn shrubs. There was... an austerity to our holiday celebrations."

"Austerity, huh? Your grandparents never got you presents?"

"As you know, they felt that a strong vocabulary helped build a strong character..."

"Oh, yeah. Books."

"Books," Fraser agreed.

Ray drove onto the turnpike and thought about turning the radio on, but instead, he said:

"Hey, Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"I'm not gonna spoil your surprise or anything, but I _will_ give you a hint. Your Christmas present? It doesn't have any pages."

Fraser gave him that little Mountie Mona Lisa smile he was so good at when he was happy.

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

"Don't mention it." He grinned at Fraser at the next red light. "So, what did you get me?" He didn't bother to wheedle. Fraser would sooner smooch that nutjob Turnbull then reveal his gift to Ray before the appointed time.

"You'll find out," Fraser answered. His mouth was as prim as Sister Mary Marjorie's in the ninth grade. Prettier, though. God or somebody had hit that lady with the ugly stick but good.

"You're no fun, Benny."

"I _will_ tell you that Diefenbaker took great care in selecting your gift."

"That's good to hear." Ray figured he'd stopped thinking of Dief as a dog about the time Fraser had spent part of a stakeout arguing with the wolf about the finer points of Taoism or something like that. And Ray had actually believed that Dief had had an opinion. "He's getting the same thing I got him last year. Subs from Rossini's Deli."

Ray was going to introduce Dief to prosciutto this year.

***

"Well, you know my feelings on indulging his penchant for rich food. But he did enjoy the pimento loaf especially. The hard salami, as I recall, also went over very well."

"Okay. So tell me what you got Dief."

"I had Sergeant Frobisher mail me some moose hooves. They're very good for the teeth. Dief was quite fond of them as a cub."

"I'll bet. So, you gonna get a tree, too?"

"I thought I might. Some fresh pine boughs under my bedroll would give my apartment a touch of home."

"You're gonna _sleep_ on it?"

"Pine boughs are quite springy, Ray. And they smell delightful. 'Sweet dreams are had on a bed of pine boughs.'"

"Your dad say that?"

"He did, indeed."

"It doesn't sound too bad." Fraser detected... something in his friend's tone. Perhaps a wistful note?

He was immediately distracted, however, by his father's voice in his ear.

"Actually, son, many a night I woke up with a sore back. A lean-to under the stars is all well and good, but pine pitch stains the uniform, and my, but those branches can gouge the kidneys."

Patiently ignoring his father, Fraser agreed, "Not bad at all."

Ray's mood was refreshingly buoyant. Several times on their drive, Ray's long fingers had tapped the steering wheel and he would hum a snatch of song. 'Ave Maria' and 'Good King Wenceslas' seemed to be prevailing favorites.

At length, they arrived at 'Arturo's Christmas Tree Farm'.

Although the parking lot was muddy and rutted, the farm itself had been favored with a fresh dusting of snow, and was quite picturesque.

"Let's go rent a chainsaw and massacre a couple of Christmas trees."

"There's no need to rent a saw, Ray. I came prepared."

"You brought a chainsaw?" Ray looked impressed.

"No. But I did bring an axe."

"Do you have an axe for me?" His friend had a curious expression on his face, one of amusement mixed with... something Fraser couldn't decipher.

"I have two axes." Fraser unzipped the leather tote he'd had on the Riv's floor, and held up both axes, that Ray might choose one. "Two."

Ray made no move to take one, and instead swallowed noisily, and turned on his heel. Fraser watched him stride towards a man in a baseball cap, who warming his hands by a trash barrel that housed a snapping fire. The barrel was in close proximity to a sort of pavilion featuring a row of battered looking chainsaws and an outsized cash register.

After a few minutes of haggling, some amount of money had changed hands and Ray rejoined him, selecting an axe.

"Okay. Now all we gotta do is pick one to chop down."

"Lead on, Ray."

Ray lifted his eyebrows.

"Isn't there a special Mountie Sense for picking a Christmas tree?"

"Well, there are many non-Christian faiths, Ray. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police have no official guidelines or specific training as such--" At Ray's warning look, Fraser cut short his own deposition, cleared his throat briefly, and said instead: "And besides, I've never chosen a Christmas tree."

***

Ray remembered not to stare at the guy like he was an idiot, wondering just _what_ about Fraser seemed out of place, and said, "No problem. I'll show you the ropes. You'll be a Christmas tree pro in no time." And just to have something to do, he rubbed his hands together.

"Don't you have gloves, Ray?"

"Sure I do." And Ray pulled on his butter soft leather driving gloves that Aunt Sadie had picked up for him in Miami last year.

"Ah."

That was not a sound he liked to hear.

"Ah. What's with the 'ah', Fraser?"

"It's just... won't the pine pitch ruin your gloves?"

It was pretty unlike Fraser to suddenly be worrying about the state of Ray's clothing, when he had half a dozen dry cleaners shaking their heads at him every time he tried to get some weird goo out of another trashed Armani, courtesy of the world's biggest boy scout.

Still, he was right. Sighing, Ray stripped off his gloves and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I happen to have an extra pair, Ray. Would you like to borrow them?"

"Thanks, Fraser."

"It's my pleasure."

And then Fraser took off his own bulky gloves and handed them over. They almost matched Ray's jacket, the same light tan.

They were still warm from Fraser's hands.

For a minute, Ray just stood there watching Fraser put on the spare pair of gloves he'd fished out of his pocket, and then realized what it was that had been bugging him.

"Where's your hat?"

"Well, it's been humid. The brim was beginning to warp, so I'm blocking it."

"Oh." Ray decided that cold weather agreed with Fraser. It gave him apple cheeks like those kids in Campbell Soup ads. And it made the Mountie's pink mouth red.

Red.

No denying that red was the Mountie's color.

Ray shook his head and got a grip on himself.

"Let's go cut down some trees. Uh, we'll go this way. And if you see something you like, lemme know."

Fraser gave him that crisp nod thing he did when he was following orders, and Ray felt like saluting and laughing at the same damned time.

Ray wandered around the tree lot until he came to some trees that were taller than he was, and craned his neck to scout for a good one. Ma wanted something about 8 feet, and nice and bushy. He was looking forward to that nice pine smell mingled with the smell of his mother's Christmas Eve meatballs.

"You're humming, Ray."

"Huh?" Fraser's voice sounded close, so close that when Ray blinked, he was surprised at how far away the other man was.

"You're humming. Isn't it... traditional to sing carols as you go about Christmas activities?"

"Sure. Right. So. You wanna sing?"

"I think it would be enjoyable. To sing as we work. In the spirit of the holiday. And... tradition."

"What should we sing?"

"How about Good King Wenceslas?"

"Fine by me. So... we walk around, sing, and look for a good tree." Self consciously, Ray cleared his throat. Fraser did the same, and watched Ray for his cue.

Resting his axe on his shoulder, Ray took a deep breath and belted out, "Good King Wenceslas went to town, riding on a pony..."

"Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen..."

"Stephen?"

"Pony?"

"I don't know all the words," Ray shrugged. He'd been an alto in gradeschool chorus, but he knew for a fact that old Mr. Florentino hadn't minded when he'd taken to lip synching during Christmas Pageants. Mostly to distract Fraser from his bad singing voice, he asked, "Who's this Stephen guy?"

"The patron saint of stonemasons. You know, Ray, ironically, St. Stephen earned his martyrdom when he was stoned to death by--"

"That's one hell of a Christmas song." Leave it to Fraser to know actual historical facts about guys in songs.

"Well, Ray, strictly speaking, it's not a Christmas song. The Feast of Stephen is December 26th."

"So how come you sing it at Christmas?"

Fraser paused, hands folded on his axe handle. He blinked twice and then said:

"I haven't the foggiest. Of course, Wenceslas is namely known as the kindly king from the carol by John Mason Neale, and--"

"You're kidding me. You don't know something? Wow. It's a Christmas Miracle."

Fraser looked offended for about two seconds, before his regular face was back. Ray felt that usual mix of I'm-a-smug-bastard tinted with the flash of guilt he experienced on those few occasions he got one over on the Mountie.

"Have you chosen a tree, Ray?"

"Yeah. This one looks pretty good. What do you think?"

"I think it's a fine tree, Ray. Your mother will be glad to have it."

"I sure hope so. We're gonna half kill ourselves just dragging it back to the car."

"I'm sure we can borrow a sled from Mr. Arturo."

"All right. You go get the sled, and I'll start whacking at this one."

Fraser nodded and started towards Mr. Arturo.

***

Drawing the sled behind him, Fraser came upon Ray as his friend neared the end of his task. The tree would soon fall, and Fraser felt oddly cheated by this fact. Ray had a healthy flush from his exertion, and in four more blows, the tree began to give.

"Timber!" Ray shouted. He looked quite pleased with himself as the tree, a Fraser Fir, as were all the trees on Mr. Arturo's lot, toppled to the ground with a creak and a crash.

"It's a beautiful tree. And you made short work of it," Fraser said with admiration.

"Yeah, well. I had some practice when we were in Canada that time," and he sounded dismissive.

As always, Fraser felt a little clot of grief in his chest at the thought of Ray's odyssey in the Canadian Wilderness, and how his own injuries had prevented him from aiding Ray as he might have had he not been blind. And unable to walk.

Fraser pushed the thought away. Now was not the time for maudlin reflection. It was, after all, the season of good cheer, good will toward men.

And Fraser suspected he'd had good will toward one man in particular for some time now.

"Did you pick a tree yet?"

Fraser looked surprised.

"No. It would seem that your tree will need some trimming, and I thought perhaps that I would put the fallen boughs to good use." He stopped, though, looking thoughtful. "But of course, you may wish to use the extra branches to fashion a wreath for the front door. In which case--"

"No no no," Ray countered. "Look, if you want Vecchio creativity, you look in the kitchen. We're not an artistic people. Take all the branches you want."

Fraser looked so grateful that Ray felt kind of...sad. Jeez, all he was doing was giving the guy some sticks! It bugged him that Fraser, a guy so good that it was like walking around with one of the apostles sometimes, never seemed to get treated right.

If Fraser wanted tree branches, then he could have them.

Together, they rolled and tugged and shoved the tree on the sled, and he and Fraser dragged that bad boy to the parking lot, where they then heaved it onto the Riv's roof-- although not before Ray had taken care to spread a sheet out first. He sure as hell didn't want to scratch the finish.

He left Fraser to tie it up with square knots or sheep's hitches or whatever, and he had a chat with Mr. Arturo.

By the time Fraser was tightening the last rope, Ray had the sled all heaped with pine boughs from the pile Arturo had had behind the shed.

"Ray. What are you doing?"

"We can fill up the trunk and the back seat. That should be plenty of pine branches. You could probably build yourself a little Piney Posturepedic with this many, right?"

Fraser actually laughed, and that sound made Ray feel so warm and gooshy inside that he knew he was blushing.

"This is... so thoughtful of you Ray."

"They're just sticks, Benny." Ray could hardly look at him, but he loved to see that light shine in the Mountie's eyes. "It's no big deal. Help me stuff them in the backseat."

Fraser hesitated. "Won't.."

Ray felt a flash of worry.

"Won't what?"

"Won't the branches leave sap on your upholstery?"

Ray let out a whoosh of pent up air, and waved Fraser's concern away.

"Nah. Besides, it'll deodorize the wolf smell. Better than air freshener hanging from the mirror."

"Quite so.".

Together, they piled the branches in the trunk and the back seat, and when they were done, there were pine needles in Fraser's dark, ruffled hair.

Ray felt so warm he was beginning to think he had a fever, and it was all he could do not to gape at Fraser like a goon.

He'd been in _dumpsters_ , hell, landfills and _sewers_ with this guy, and not once had he ever had so much as a dab of egg on him. Ever.

Still smiling, Fraser gave the ropes a final tug, and stood by the passenger door, waiting for Ray to get in.

***

"Shall we go?"

Ray had gotten in the car, but was just... sitting there.

As if startled, Ray jumped and turned to face Fraser.

"Huh?"

"Are we ready to go to your mother's?"

"Yeah. Frannie and Maria got all the decorations down from the attic. My mom made a special batch of eggnog for you. No rum."

"That was very kind of her."

"She has a soft spot for you."

"I, too, have a 'soft place' for her."

"Spot," Ray reminded with a smile.

"Soft spot."

"You ready to face a Vecchio Family Christmas?"

"I found it quite pleasant last year."

"Even when Frannie and Maria had that fight over who had the dumbest date for senior prom?"

"Well. It was certainly... Rousing."

"And when Tony almost choked to death on that hunk of ham he hadn't bothered to try and chew?"

"It made for a memorable holiday," Fraser hazarded, scraping a thumb along his left eyebrow. Now that Ray had pointed those instances out, last year's festivities had seemed slightly... claustrophobic and... emotional.

"You could say that. You staying at the house again this year?"

"I am." Fraser had no wish to take Ray away from his family at Christmas, even for the few minutes it would have required to return him to his own apartment. "But I have made... provisions this year."

"Provisions?" Ray looked confused.

"Yes." Fraser made no effort to be forthcoming, and thankfully, Ray merely shrugged and turned his attention to the road.

***

He'd seen Fraser face down gun wielding maniacs more than once, but only Frannie seemed to really spook him.

Fraser had that squirrel-in-the-headlights look again. And Frannie had him cornered.

"You look so ... rugged in that Lumberjack outfit, Frase."

"Ah. Thank you kindly, Francesca. You too look well in... that sweater."

Ray snorted and rolled his eyes. If Frannie's sweater got any tighter she was gonna need help breathing. And Ray had a pretty good idea who she'd choose for CPR, too.

Frannie had her eyes on the prize, all right, and she was moving in for the kill. Just a few more steps and Fraser would be square underneath the mistletoe Frannie'd hung in the doorway.

What the hell. One kiss wouldn't kill a guy, not even Fraser. And let Frannie have her fun. It was Christmas, and Ray was feeling generous.

But when Frannie actually pounced and laid one the Mountie, Ray felt a lot of things, and generosity wasn't one of them.

Those big blue eyes went wide, and then closed softly, long lashes practically brushing those still-rosy cheeks.

Rather than struggling out of Frannie's deathgrip, Fraser seemed to be... relaxing into it.

"Hey, Frannie, break it up. Give the guy a little air, would ya?"

Fraser's mouth was smeared with Frannie's shiny lipstick, and he blinked at Ray as if waking from some kind of trance.

"Ray, I am never gonna speak to you _again_ ," Frannie fumed.

"I should be so lucky." He shooed his little sister towards the kitchen. "Look, go get him some egg nog. If you'd kept him under much longer, he'd probably need an oxygen mask."

"Actually, Ray, I have excess lung capacity--"

Ray felt his heart bang in his chest, and he caught the look on Frannie's face. He had the sneaking suspicion that he didn't look too much different.

Excess lung capacity. Jesus.

It gave you... thoughts.

***

Still feeling... flushed from his recent embrace, Fraser decided that it would be wise to sit down.

The room was quite warm, thanks to the fire Ray had laid in the fireplace. The pop of the fire and the smell of woodsmoke was pleasant and familiar. Choosing the couch across from where the tree was situated, Fraser admired the twinkling lights and colorful ornaments. The tree fairly shimmered with tinsel, and the wonderful fragrance of pine graced the room.

Francesca had replaced her mother's Rosemary Clooney album with one by Nat King Cole, and the effect was quite cozy.

"Nice, huh?" Ray commented, joining Fraser on the couch, and handing him a cup of egg nog.

"It really is a lovely tree," Fraser concurred.

"All it needs is the star. Ma wants you to put it on."

"I'd be honored, Ray."

Ray's smile was relaxed and fond.

"I figured you might be."

"Ray."

Ray's eyebrows twitched, indicating that he was listening.

"I just wanted to... Thank you for sharing the warmth of hearth and home with me."

"You chopped the wood," Ray reasoned.

"That's not what I meant, Ray." Fraser felt a touch of exasperation. It was difficult for him to express his deeper sentiments at the best of times; to have them literally interpreted was not at all his intention.

Ray again favored him with that small, affectionate smile and Fraser felt that warmth settle around him like a soft blanket.

"I know what you mean, Benny. And anytime."

And Ray squeezed his shoulder companionably.

"I thank you." Fraser felt his blood race, and his heart skip in his chest. "I've been thinking... If it wouldn't be any trouble, I'd like to give you your Christmas present early."

Ray perked up immediately.

"Fine by me. But you have to open mine first. Hang on a minute."

Ray rummaged among the boxes Francesca and Mrs. Vecchio had set under the tree and returned.

"It's not so great, but it's not a book," Ray said as he handed him a small, gaily wrapped package addressed, "To Benny".

"I'm sure I'll treasure it, Ray, as a gift from my best friend. It is, after all, the thought that counts." Besides, the pine boughs had already moved Fraser more than he would have thought possible.

Fraser unwrapped the gift and opened the box.

"It's a wallet! It's wonderful, Ray." And he felt a flush of pleasure warm his face.

"It's monogrammed," Ray pointed out.

"So it is."

"So now you don't have to keep your money tucked in your hat." Ray seemed especially satisfied with this last feature of the gift.

"Very true. Of course," Fraser reflected. "My uniform jodhpurs don't have any pockets..."

"Crap. I didn't think of that," Ray frowned.

"But it's still very handy, Ray," Fraser hurried to explain.

"Nice one, son. The next time he gives you a present, perhaps you could kick him in the shins for his trouble." Fraser didn't spare his father a glance.

"I can still use it when I'm off duty. And... Well, it will of course fit _under_ the hat." And he balanced the wallet on the top of his head.

Ray shook his head, looking annoyed and amused as only he could.

"Benny, you're a nut."

"It would seem so," he replied, at last looking over toward his Father, who was investigating the various packages beneath the tree. Presumably searching for one with his own name on it.

Ray then inquired about his own gift.

"It's outside."

"So show me, already." And Ray headed to the closet to retrieve their coats.

***

Ray hoped Fraser hadn't done anything stupid like wash and wax the Riv. It was 22 degrees out, for Christ's sake.

But Fraser took him out back.

It was only eight o'clock, but it was full dark and had been for hours already. Somewhere, kids were caroling. He could make out the strains of Good King Wenceslas.

Other than that, there was a funny sort of hush over the back yard. Not a honking horn or barking dog to be heard. A few stars winked here and there, and above the orange haze of the city lights, the moon shone down smooth and white and almost full.

Moonlight silvered the little red tent Fraser had pitched in the snow.

"You bought me a tent?" Ray was confused.

"I borrowed the tent, actually, and the accouterments, from Turnbull. Apparently, he has climbed Mount Everest. Twice. Without oxygen."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

Fraser cleared his throat.

"It would explain... certain things."

"Yeah, like why he's a few slices short of a pizza."

Fraser shifted and tugged at his collar. He pointed out a little pile of twigs set in front of the tent . "I thought I'd show you how to build a campfire with--"

"Rocks," Ray interrupted, grinning. "We're gonna go camping?"

"Well... Yes. You'd said, when we were in Canada, that you'd never actually been camping, and although we were in the wilderness for several days, I'm sure that wasn't what you had in mind--"

"This is great! You have a cooking stove and everything!"

Unzipping the tent, Ray crawled in to find two mummy bags rolled out on top of a layer of pine boughs... and some sheets.

"What's this?" Ray fingered the cloth thoughtfully. Fraser, who had crawled in behind him, sat crosslegged on one of the bags. His big blue eyes were dark and liquid in the stripe of moonlight that fell through the unzipped tentflap.

"They're your mother's best sheets, Ray. I arranged this some time ago, and the fact that your mother had lent you her best sheets had seemed a point of special import."

Ray stretched out on one of the mummy bags and tucked his hands behind his head. He was smiling so hard, his face hurt. So hard his eyes felt wet.

"Benny, when I said I got my mom's best sheets, I meant that I used 'em to make the _tent_."

"Ah."

"But this is great. Camping out with my best friend. It's just the way you want to go camping when you're a kid." He took a deep breath. It smelled like fresh, cold snow and pine. Like Christmas. "How'd you get all this stuff here, anyway?"

"I carried it here this morning."

" _That's_ why you wouldn't let me pick you up."

Fraser nodded, looking nearly smug.

"I can't believe you carried all this stuff. It must have weighed a ton!"

"It was nothing, Ray. You... carried me. Longer and farther."

Ray dropped his eyes. There was only so much holiday sentimentality and manly bonding a guy could take.

"Ray, I didn't mean to upset you--"

"Jeez, no. Benny. This is... really nice of you, is all. You know, thoughtful."

"Understood," Fraser said softly, and something about the way he said it convinced Ray that Fraser _did_ know how much it meant to him.

Fraser lay down on his own sleeping bag, with his hands folded on his chest.

"You know something? This pine bough bed thing isn't half bad."

"Quite delightful, isn't it? Very supportive."

Ray chuckled.

"Yeah."

***

For a long while, he and Ray lay still in their pine bower. He heard Ray's steady, rhythmic breathing and felt a peace so poignant that his heart ached, it was so full.

"Hey, Benny?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Just... thanks."

"You're very welcome, Ray."

Another silence formed, this one tender and full of things unspoken.

At last, Ray leaned up on his elbow, eyes luminous in the moon's glow. He was smiling, and he reached toward Fraser.

Fraser held very still, and felt Ray's fingers sift through his hair, patting his head.

"You got pine needles in your hair," Ray murmured.

"So I have." Fraser could see their clouding breath mingle in the small space between them. It seemed... very intimate. Almost... portentous.

"Fraser..." Ray's voice trailed away, but he did not pull back.

It was a small matter, such a little thing to lift his head and incline it slightly. Their lips brushed tentatively, almost accidentally.

"Ray," Fraser whispered to Ray's lips.

Ray kissed him then, his mouth covering Fraser's, lively tongue stroking inside Fraser's mouth and painting it with warmth.

Spurred by longing, Fraser gasped, and brought his arms around his friend, shifting his weight to roll Ray over and cover him. He kissed Ray with a passion he had scarcely suspected of himself.

After a timeless delirium, Fraser realized Ray was speaking to him, half-sighing words between kisses of such sweetness that Fraser felt faintly giddy.

"Fraser... Benny... we gotta cool it. My mom is like, fifty feet away."

"Dief will warn us should anyone come outside," Fraser replied. His own voice sounded husky and unfamiliar in his ears.

Ray gave a shaky little laugh. His eyes were wide and dark, and his mouth looked... swollen. From their kisses, Fraser realized.

"Dief ain't here, Fraser."

"Ah. Good point," and his emotions were so strongly to the fore that his sudden disappointment was nearly enough to bring tears to his eyes.

Ray clapped his cheek gently.

"Benny. Hey. Hey. Don't look like that. It's okay." He gave Fraser a smile that kindled his very blood, a wicked smile, crooked with promises. "It's not Christmas Eve yet."

"Ray-- I'm afraid I don't follow." His muddled brain scarcely recognized his own name. His body had taken over-- he was aware only of Ray's heat, of his long body still faintly rocking beneath his weight.

"I'll have to drive you home. You're not staying home 'til _tomorrow_ night."

"Home," Fraser echoed.

"Your home. Your apartment. Your bed. The place where you live by yourself?"

"Oh, Ray," Fraser breathed, and bent his head to kiss Ray once more.

Eventually, they parted, and disentangled themselves from the twisted sheets and the clutching pine boughs. Ray helped him gain his feet, and once again, they were standing in the Vecchio back yard.

"You ready to go?"

"Quite ready."

"Glad to hear that."

"Ray?"

"Yeah, Benny?"

"I just wondered... will you be getting a fresh tree next Christmas?"

Ray laughed, a bright, ebullient sound, filling the hushed space of the snowdraped backyard.

"You can count on it, Benny."

***

Ray could smell the minestrone even through the styrofoam cup, and the chicken Parmesan subs were spotting the brown bags with delicious grease.

Fraser had admitted to being hungry, and Ray figured that two egg nogs didn't exactly constitute a Mountie meal.

He'd sent Fraser into Rossini's for the food, and visited by the drugstore next door.

"It's good that you thought of that; I'm starving to death and I didn't even know it." They'd be back to Fraser's apartment in no time. Then they could eat. And then they could--

"Great Scott!"

"What!? Oh my god, is there a mugger? A fire?? What?"

Fraser's eyes were wide.

"I forgot Dief's prosciutto!"

"Good grief, is that all?" Ray's hands relaxed on the wheel. "I thought it was an armed robbery!"

"But the deli... It closes at nine, Ray, and it'll be closed Christmas Eve and Day."

"So? Dief will have to make do with pimento loaf and my mom's Christmas Eve Meatballs. He's not picky."

"Well, I wouldn't say that..."

"You ever seen him turn his nose up at a meal at my house?"

"Mmm. Good point." Ray tried not to wonder what that Mountie hum would feel like against his own naked skin. All he had to do was get them back to Fraser's place. Then his brain could go to town.

"I'll put a whole bunch in Tupperware for him, keep him stocked up for a week or so. He'll be in heaven."

"That's very kind of you, Ray."

"Kind, shmind. You know and I know that I'll have to bribe him to get any... uh... quality time. Alone, I mean. With you." Ray suddenly understood why Fraser had already cleared his throat 16 times already, in the car alone.

"Actually, he's quite gentlemanly about... That is to say, he won't mind waiting in the hall. When... If... I mean..."

"I get it, Benny." And Ray patted his friend's his knee, just for a second, but even with his hands on the wheel, his fingers could still feel the warmth of Fraser's skin under his stiff, dark blue jeans.

***

It had been quite some time since Ray had dined with him in his apartment. Generally, Ray preferred that they eat at Ray's mother's, or in the many Chinese restaurants they frequented. In point of fact, the last Vecchio who had shared his table had been--

"Francesca."

Ray paused, his spoon half the distance from the tin cup Fraser had served him his soup in to his mouth.

"What?"

"Francesca, Ray. She'll be... upset. Perhaps we should be discreet."

"Jeez, Fraser, it's not like I'm gonna French you in front of my Mom." Ray put his spoon down, apparently so he could devote more energy to eye rolling. "But Frannie... She's gonna find out anyway."

"How?"

"She's sharp about stuff like this. I go home tomorrow, she's gonna _know_. She'll smell it on me..."

Fraser felt vaguely alarmed at that thought, and it must have shown, as Ray hastened to reassure him.

"Not literally, you maniac. Metaphorically. She's like my dad that way. She can tell when you've got somethin' on the side. My mom you could talk into believin' anything, but Frannie, she used to rat on me like clockwork. She's practically psychic."

"Ah."

"Besides, a secret like this is gonna get out." Ray dropped his eyes and studied his long hands as they toyed with his plastic spoon. "Look," he met Fraser's gaze again, eyes soft and dark in the orange dimness of Fraser's apartment. "I'm in love with you, okay? You don't think somebody'll notice that?"

Fraser found it difficult to swallow his soup, and he, too set his spoon down.

"You're in love with me." He couldn't quite make it a question.

"Yeah. It's been a couple a months since I noticed it, but it's probably been longer than that that I loved you. I mean, I loved you right away, you may be the most annoying man on the planet, but you're easy to love, and I loved you like a brother, I guess, but this... this ain't no brotherly love I'm feelin'. Maybe not since..." His voice trailed away, and he picked up his remaining half a sandwich.

"Ray... I'm... Honored. Pleased and honored. And deeply moved."

Ray smiled behind his sandwich; Fraser could see his eyes crinkle.

"That's a good thing, then."

"A very good thing." Fraser stood up and pushed his chair away from the table... only to sit down again, and smile helplessly.

"You gonna finish that?" Ray pointed to his untouched sub.

"I... seem to have lost my appetite, Ray."

Ray set his own sandwich down again and smiled back at him.

"You don't say."

"I think dinner's over."

"If you say so." Ray, too, pushed his chair away from the table, but neither of them made a move to get up.

"We'll need items for... preparations." He swallowed loudly against his suddenly tight collar. "And... protection."

Ray's eyebrows climbed.

"I'm impressed. I thought I'd have to... You know. Be the brains of this outfit." He gave Fraser a sweet, toothy grin.

"Ray, I'm not entirely without... experience," and he heard how defensive and pedantic he sounded, but was helpless to take the words back.

"That's not what I meant. You kiss like a guy who gives lessons or something." His eyes were large and dark, gleaming in the low lamplight. "But... you been with a guy before?"

"Well... no. But I'm familiar with... the mechanics of homoerotic relations."

Ray laughed again.

"'Homoerotic relations'? What, you mean you got a gay cousin or something like that?"

"Actually, I had a Great Aunt Lucille who lived in Medicine Hat with her beloved Adela until they both froze to death in the--"

Ray shook his head and sighed.

"Fraser, do you gotta be so literal?"

"We'll need things, Ray," Fraser repeated.

"I got it covered, Fraser. Okay?"

"Okay."

***

Ray rubbed his palms on the knees of his black jeans and then plucked nervously at the sleeve of his olive turtleneck.

"Ray?"

"Yeah, Benny?"

"Would you come here for a moment?" It was the Benny he knew, polite about everything, even putting the moves on his partner.

Relieved, Ray got out of the hot seat, glad Fraser had started the ball rolling. He walked around the table and Fraser stood up and cleared his throat for the 57th time that night.

"You saved my life, during that first case."

"Benny, I shoved you out a window." Ray rubbed at the tightness at the base of his skull; thinking about Fraser facing death always made him antsy.

"Nevertheless, you took the brunt of the explosion." Ray was hardly in a mood for speeches, but he could hear the tremor under Fraser's strong, honest voice. "You risked your life for mine. And I was grateful. But I didn't 'love' you until you came to my father's cabin, from your sickbed to the frozen north, at considerable expense and discomfort. I don't believe I ever really thanked you for that. You are a good friend to me, Ray." Fraser's voice got thick, and Ray half expected him to clear his throat again, but Fraser forged ahead. "The best any man could have."

He rested his hands lightly on Ray's shoulders, and Ray felt his mouth fall open a little, his whole body sway.

"I love you, Ray." And Ray could feel the sincerity of that declaration right down to his pinkie toes.

"I was hopin'," Ray replied, and bent his head for a kiss.

***

"I'm _in_ love with you, Ray," Fraser clarified, his voice low and rough, whispering into the pliant shell of Ray's warm ear.

"Thank god," Ray sighed, and turned his head to kiss his friend with all the ardor of their embrace in the tent. Ray's mouth was not large, and yet it was generous... with soft, rather 'pouting' lips. Fraser would not have thought the sensation of having someone suck on his tongue would be so intensely pleasurable... but there it was.

Every mouthed caress conjured an answering throb from some portion of his body.

"I think we should go to bed, Ray." Fraser wondered if Ray could hear his eagerness. He could certainly feel Ray's. It was quite... distracting.

"You're gonna kill me if you keep saying stuff like that. It's so sexy I can't stand it." Ray nibbled on Fraser's ear as they made halting progress in the bed's direction. "When you say sex stuff in that practical Mountie voice... it blows my mind."

"Would you like to undress me, Ray?" He carefully modulated his tone, trying for the calm, matter of fact inflection that would further incite Ray's passion.

He was answered with a sucking kiss and a fevered moan.

"God, yes."

Ray's hands untucked his shirttails and slipped under the cloth of his undershirt, one hand stealing up his back, the other skimming a nipple with his palm.

"Ray--"

"Yeah, Benny?" Ray sounded distinctly dreamy. His eyes were so dark that Fraser could not discern even a hint of their normal, lucid green.

"I was just... Saying your name."

"Say it again."

"Oh, Ray..." He knew his own voice was as breathless and unfocused as Ray's. Ray's hand cupped his buttock and _squeezed_. Fraser lurched forward, his own rising heat meeting the solid form behind Ray's zipper. They both gasped.

***

Ray was so hot he was gonna come in his pants. And he did _not_ want that to happen.

"Benny, Benny, c'mon, the bed, lie down and I'll get you out of those jeans."

Benny flopped down on the mattress and stared up at him, hair mussed, eyes wide and clear as spring water. His pretty Mountie mouth was red with kissing, and he licked his lips unconsciously, which only made Ray want to dive on top of him and kiss him some more.

Only the promise of Mountie skin kept him from doing just that. It took him a frustrating amount of time to undo the guy's boots, but working Benny's jeans down his hips was a reward in itself.

"Holy shit. You're beautiful."

"Thank you, Ray."

Ray smiled at him, petting one Mountie kneecap. "You know what I like about you, Benny? You really know how to accept a compliment."

"That's very thoughtful of you to say, Ray." Fraser wriggled out of his remaining clothing, kicking off his jeans and tugging his t-shirt over his head, and Ray watched, entranced. "Perhaps you would like some assistance?"

"Huh?"

Fraser sat up and pushed Ray's shirt up, baring Ray's navel. Fraser kissed it, a soft, suckling kiss complete with tickling tongue. Just the _idea_ of Fraser doing this sent a hot rush of blood to his trapped erection. The muscles under Fraser's tongue fluttered, and Ray couldn't decide whether to laugh or moan. His thighs loose and trembly, he curled a hand around Fraser's neck to help keep himself upright.

"I should like to see you _out_ of your clothes," Fraser said, all business. And he tugged questioningly at the belt loop of Ray's jeans.

"Oh, yeah." He rasped. Benny taking charge like this seemed to affect Ray's vocal cords. "Sure. Knock yourself out." Fraser made short work of his zipper and made no bones about shoving his jeans down his legs. Of course, Ray's dick sprang free and sort of... bobbed there, so close to the Mountie's lips, Ray could feel his sweet soft breath on it.

This was a moment Ray had pretty much never expected; when he _had_ thought of telling Fraser he was in love with him, his mind rarely let him get past strangely old fashioned ideas of maybe driving Fraser to a movie, or taking walks in the park arm in arm. Kind of like those wedding pictures of his Great Grandpa Gino and Great Grandma Rose.

The occasional kiss had been imagined, a groping session, maybe, even the cock hardening daydream of having Benny naked in his bed. But... Never this.

All Ray could do was stand there slackjawed with shocked anticipation, as Fraser looked up at him, not so much to ask permission as to just let Ray know what was going to happen, and then he wrapped his strong, smooth arms around Ray's hips and his soft, red lips around Ray's--

All that prim mouth pursing must have been like muscle training for blow jobs; never, in all his life, had Ray felt such total, focused suction. No slurping for the Mountie, no sir, just wet, hot sucking and a beautiful, wonderful, massaging Mountie tongue. Ray's eyes were already rolling back in his head, in another second he was gonna shoot his load and pass the fuck out--

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh my goooooooooooood, Fraser, wait, Benny, no, hold up hold up--"

Fraser withdrew, and Ray panted like a greyhound after a race, his hands curled in Fraser's hair, but not _clutching_ at it.

"Benny." He knew he sounded as dazed and wobbly as he felt. "Man. Look, I'm gonna lose it if we don't go slow. It's the first time, okay, and I want it to go slow. To go right."

He got to his knees, between the open vee of Fraser's legs, and hands still in Benny's hair, kissed him again, licking those sweet Mountie lips until they were both sighing.

"I love you, Ray." Benny told him when they finally came up for air. It sounded resolute, like a command almost, and Ray was ready to act on it.

"Hold that thought," and Ray climbed to his admittedly shaky knees and stepped out of his jeans, wrestling his turtleneck off his body.

***

Fraser wished he'd thought to turn the kitchen light on. Ray was here, in this very room, divesting himself of every article of clothing he possessed, and all Fraser could make out were intriguing shadows.

He stretched out on the cot and lifted his head, noting the heavy curve of Ray's dark cock as he tossed his briefs on the floor, standing for a moment in an orange stripe of light from the sodium lamp outside Fraser's bedroom window.

"Okay. You ready for me?"

"More than ready." And Ray stepped closer to the bed and, bracing his arms on either side of Fraser's head, gently lowering himself until he and Fraser were chest to chest, and groin to groin. Skin to skin. Everywhere.

Fraser could only gasp at its perfection.

"God, you're beautiful, Benny," Ray murmured.

"You keep saying that." Fraser allowed his hands to glide down the silken curve of Ray's long, flexible spine. Fraser favored Ray's new, shorter hairstyle. The barber kept the back of Ray's neck clean and shorn, and Fraser enjoyed the soft, short bristles at the base of Ray's skull under his palm.

"Yeah, well I tend to repeat myself when I'm naked."

"You weren't naked the first time," Fraser pointed out. Ray smiled and hid his face against Fraser's shoulder.

"Thank god it's really you. I was beginning to think I was gettin' frisky with a pod person."

"A pod person?" Above the steady pounding of his own blood in his ears, Fraser could hear the hush of passing traffic outside. He fancied he could almost hear the snowflakes settling on the ground. Touching Ray was building a bewildering, sensuous peace in his heart, one that duly affected his mental processes.

"I'll explain later, huh? Why don't you kiss me some more?"

And Fraser did, taking time to sample the plane of Ray's temple, the tip of his nose, his receding chin. He tasted the angle of Ray's cheek, and the line of his jaw, and the arch of his long, slender neck, all the while letting his hands roam, while Ray lay quietly, eyes closed, deep, ragged breaths feathering like summer wind against Fraser's skin.

***

"I can't believe this, you know?" Said Ray, softly, hitching his hips just a little. He dipped his head and kissed Fraser's mouth again, his tongue counting Fraser's flat, even teeth. "God, I mean, I wanted you, but I never thought I'd get you..."

Fraser flipped them over, and Ray was covered in a hot blanket of Mountie. God. Being skin to skin with the guy was like getting a suntan from the inside out.

Fraser nudged Ray's balls with his knee and murmured, "But you did."

Ray laughed breathlessly.

"Yeah. So I did." And he nuzzled Fraser's soft hair.

Ray had skinny arms and narrow calves and a slight, soft paunch, but Fraser's body was as smooth and white and solid as a carving made out of Ivory Soap.

"Ray, I think you should get the lubricant," Fraser told Ray's collarbone.

Holy jesus.

Ray's mouth was suddenly dry.

"Uh, who am I getting it for?"

"For us," Fraser replied evenly. "This first time, I should like to be... beneath you."

Ray groaned helplessly, a hot flash splashing all over his body at the thought of being _inside_ Fraser.

"Oh, man, are you sure about that? Because I gotta tell you, I don't know how much longer I can last..."

Fraser cupped his balls and squeezed them gently.

"I have complete faith in you, Ray."

Ray lifted his head and kissed Fraser wetly for what felt like half an hour before dropping his head back so it bounced on the thin mattress of Fraser's cot.

"Okay. You... hands and knees. I'll be right back."

Ray slid off the mattress and watched Fraser kneel on the bed and spread himself out. Screwing his eyes shut, Ray felt fresh sweat break out on his skin, and he licked his lips compulsively.

"Get a grip, Ray." He ordered himself, and felt around his coat pocket for the lube and the condoms.

Trying to ignore his shaking hands, he got on the bed behind Fraser, and just... _stared_.

"Ray? Is something wrong?"

Fraser's voice brought him back to himself, and he palmed the Mountie's ass reassuringly, thumb stroking the fine grained skin, near the crease of Fraser's thigh.

Gently, he kissed the small knot of scar tissue beside Fraser's spine.

"Everything," Ray told him firmly, "is perfect."

***

Fraser could feel the nap of the blanket under his knees. His elbows were slightly rough and the blanket tugged a little, and Fraser wondered if Francesca had been right in supposing his Mountie issue soap was too drying for this climate.

Then all thoughts of Francesca... all thought entirely... flew out of his head.

Ray's warm soft mouth was kissing the curve of his buttock, and Ray's long elegant finger was... probing him. A slick feeling, and then intrusion, as Ray... oh, Ray... Ray was...

Fraser scrubbed his face against his pillow and heard Ray talking to him, as if from a great distance, talking and peppering his trembling back with soft, wet kisses, his motions steady and rhythmic and ohhhh Ray...

And then Ray, that thick, sweet, solid flesh that had been so oddly satisfying to hold in his mouth and caress with his tongue, Ray was...

Consciously, Fraser tried to relax, and his muscles did as he bid them, and Ray slid home, in one deep, smooth motion, and they both paused, gasping and trembling, Fraser making a helpless bleat of longing and completion that sounded utterly unlike any sound he'd ever made before.

Fraser raised himself onto his hands and felt Ray's weight shift against his back.

"Shh, shh, lemme... I need to... just wait, wait..." And then Ray withdrew slightly and rocked home again, and Fraser gave a surprised shout as rich, dark sensation slammed through his body and pooled behind his eyes.

***

As far as Ray's dick was concerned, fucking Benny was better than winning the lottery. Better than getting his badge, better than his Ma's Christmas Eve meatballs, almost better than anything, except Fraser himself.

Ray knew he was groaning like a porn soundtrack, but that was just fine, because Benny was gasping and making deep, inarticulate sounds like "huhhhnnnnh!". Like those weightlifter guys who did clean jerk lifting.

Ray had no idea how long they'd been at it, but he knew that if he didn't come soon, he was gonna have a heart attack and die.

Fraser's back was slick with sweat, and his sides were heaving. The hair at the back of his neck was black and curling, and his moans were constant now.

"Come, Ray," Fraser husked.

"I can't," Ray panted, "Not 'til you do." He stroked Benny's hard, leaking cock in time with every shift of his hips, and Fraser buried his face in the pillow, arm's shaking.

Ray picked up the pace.

"Ohhhh Ray... Ray!"

"Bennybennybenny," he muttered in reply, and then he felt Fraser twitch and spasm in his hand, and he gritted his teeth and drove hard.

He came so hard he saw stars, and when he could open his eyes again, his cheek was plastered to Benny's still heaving back, and he could feel the pounding of Fraser's heart against his throat.

Eventually, he had enough feeling in his limp spaghetti arms to drag himself up to see Benny face to face.

"That was... quite rousing."

"Rousing? I'm wiped out," Ray smiled, kissing Fraser's near shoulder.

"I've never experienced quite that level of... carnality."

"Huh?" It was getting hard to keep his eyes open, no matter how much he liked to see Benny all flushed and relaxed.

"There was quite a bit of moaning," Fraser explained.

"Oh. Yeah. No kidding." He grinned. "Your neighbors are gonna complain."

Fraser didn't rise to the bait; he only quirked an eyebrow and said, "Well, it's still early. James Henderson in 3E practices his electric guitar until well past midnight. It's not even ten-thirty."

"Wow. I've never seen you so mellow. You should get laid more often." He cuddled close, so he could feel Fraser's breath on his cheek, and Fraser's arms around him, and tugged at the rucked up blankets until they were cozy underneath them.

"I hope to, Ray."

And he gave Ray that prim little smile before kissing him good night.


End file.
